


A Mid-Morning's Paint

by AllisonSummer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Sister-Sister Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 14:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3491258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllisonSummer/pseuds/AllisonSummer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andromeda spends one pleasant morning painting-- with her sister Narcissa to keep her company. (898 words)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mid-Morning's Paint

**Author's Note:**

> England, 1965

"They’re called acrylics," the older girl started first.

She looked to her younger sister perched at the window, where the soft beams of the mid morning sun danced and reflected bright off of the pearly highlights of her hair.

"The muggles invented them," the blue tip of her brush stroked smooth across the surface of the tattered scraps of vellum she had recovered from her father’s bin to serve as a canvas, "and they’re waterproof."

Narcissa’s brow drew down at that.

"But, Andy … muggles can’t practice magic," she stated, rather adamant. That was their foremost defining trait, she thought inwardly. It was that distinction that separated muggles from sorcerers.

"It isn’t magic, Cissy," Andromeda confirmed for her, and the corners of her mouth pulled up a small bit as the beginnings of a smile took hold of her. "The muggles created them through a process called ‘science,’" she recalled the unusual terms Ted had used with a touch of delight. Though, she thought to herself, from his description, the 'science' of muggles did sound and awful deal like magic to her.

”Science,” Narcissa mouthed the foreign word, trying it out to get a feel for it. “I’m … I’m not sure what that is,” A look of consternation flickered momentarily across her small features as she watched her sister paint, but the rhythmic strokes of her sister’s brush relaxed something in her mind. She was painting one of the irises from the garden, the younger girl could recognize.

Andromeda’s hand stilled, drawing back as she looked over the general shape of her painting. “You know, I’m not all too sure what it is either,” she admitted, reaching over to her palette and dropping her brush to clink in a mug. Andy watched the blue paint swirl, muddying the clear of the water, and could not help but think of Ted’s favorite pullover, blue to complement the fair of his strands and nearly sprouting frayed threads reminiscent of the frizz of his hair. The thought stayed with her as her fingers drifted over the selection of other brushes she had laid out to use, digits curling around a thinner-tipped one.

Narcissa watched her sister, tipping her head as she did. “How do you know about all of these muggle things?” she thought on it, “And where did you even find those … acri-acrylics?” She stumbled over another of the muggles' unusual terms, frowning at her own clumsiness.

"Hmm," Andromeda dipped her new brush in a pot of black and set off outlining delicately over the larger blue blocks intended for the petals. Already the vellum was wrinkling as the acrylic dried. 

"Do you … do you know what it means to-to be … discrete?" she finally decided on, pausing her hand to glance back at her sister.

"I … yes, I know what discretion is," Narcissa hesitated, as suspicious as any ten-year-old could be concerning these matters. Even being so young she was no stranger to secrecy, having kept both their parents’ and eldest sister’s confidence already. The youngest Black had proven that she held special talents in listening and providing a sympathetic ear, if the reservoir of secrets she had collected were any indication.

Andromeda nodded at her sister’s answer, content, and turned back to return to her artwork. 

"A friend of mine from school," she began, a grin threatening to break out across her face again at the thought of him, "he knows all that there is to know about muggles, seeing as his parents are muggles themselves."

"You are friends with a muggleborn?" Narcissa nearly fell from her lean against the window, the pitch of her voice rising higher in her surprise. Andromeda jerked around at the sound and motioned for her to keep quieter, lest anyone in the hall overhear them. The younger girl only blinked a moment at the motions, shock still trickling and settling in the cracks of her mind at her older sister’s reveal.

As Narcissa finally regained some semblance of speech, she watched as her sister had again returned to her picture, nonchalant if you could believe it, and moving on to paint the blue-green of the stem. 

"I can’t believe … Mama and Papa can’t know yet, and Bella …," her eyes widened as she ran the scenario through her head. No, none of them could have known yet, especially not Bella. She would have heard the angry howling her sister was well known for. Like a banshee, Aunt Walpurga had said, and it was an apt description.

"But you won’t tell them," Andromeda switched out her green brush for her black, glancing back over at where the sun crowned a soft halo around her sister, "will you?"

Narcissa swallowed, sighing deep and long before she raised her gaze to her sister. “No,” she parted with the word softly, almost regretful, “no, I will not tell.” It wouldn’t do any of them a lick of good, the blonde thought, and already she had given her sister her word.

Andromeda nodded, relieved, though she never really doubted her, she supposed. Only two years her junior and already her younger sister was the family’s best secret keeper, by far. If there were anyone in this family to trust, it would be her. She smiled, glad once more for her sister's company, and returned to finish her painting with a lighter heart.


End file.
